Let the Sun Shine
by Chiiyo86
Summary: Sun is so not Dean's friend.


Note: _This was written for the "Hurt/Comfort Comment Fic Meme" on spngenlove, in answer to the prompt: "Dean gets a wicked bad sunburn." I can never thank enough my beta, Wave Obscura._

Disclaimer: _I don't own anything Supernatural related._

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He hadn't noticed anything wrong, at first. They'd spent the afternoon in the woods, looking for the remains of Maynard Sidebottoms - the name endlessly amused Dean - and there had been wind cooling the air and soothing the burn of the sun. He hadn't felt anything.

But now they were back at the motel, and Sam took a look at him and said, a hint of laughter in his voice: "Wow, dude, you're _red!_"

"I am not," Dean retorted on cue, but he still went in the bathroom to look at himself in the mirror.

He was, indeed, as red as a tomato. His forehead, his nose, his cheeks. His neck, also, especially where it met his shoulders. A dreadful feeling was creeping over him and he looked down on himself; the skin on his arms was of a bright red. And there was worse. An unfortunate turn of fate had caused all his jeans to be dirty at the same time, and he'd been obliged to wear some old shorts - it was that or walking around in his boxers. In consequence, his legs were as red as a lobster from a little above his knees to his ankles.

"Holy _shit!_" he muttered under his breath. "Fuck!"

Now that he was aware of it, he could feel that his skin was hot all over, like he had a fever. Not only did he look completely ridiculous, but he just knew he was soon going to be in a world of hurt.

He went out of the bathroom. Sam looked him up and down, and let out a whistle.

"Turn around," he said.

Dean just glared, so Sam walked around him, examining him with amused interest like he was a fucking circus attraction.

"You really did a number on yourself," he commented.

"Fuck you."

Sam brushed off the curse.

"You should shower," he said. "I'm going to buy you some cream for your sunburn."

He shot a last look at Dean before he left the room, smirking, the bastard, because of course _he_ wasn't burned, just tanned.

Dean waited for a few minutes, mulling over how unlucky he was, how unfair what happened to him was and did God hate him or what, before he went back into the bathroom. He stripped off slowly with muttered curses. His skin felt tight, now, sensitive. The lightest brush of cloth against it was painful, making him wince. It was nothing, though, compared to what he felt when he let the water run down his body.

Dean yelled in pain.

"Dean?" Sam called, voice tinged with worry.

God, Sam was back already, _of course_. Fucker was faster than lightening when he wanted to be.

"I'm fine!" he shouted, and cringed when he heard himself sounding a little high-pitched.

"You sure? Because you shrieked, man."

"I did _not_! Now leave me the fuck alone! Can't a guy have some privacy when he's in the bathroom?"

"Alright, alright."

Dean clenched his teeth, and fumbled with the hot water faucet until the water was lukewarm, almost cold, then finally started washing himself. His sunburn was back to an acceptable level of pain but the water felt cold on his torso, his thighs, and especially his dick, so he was soon shivering, and mumbling:

"Fuckin' sun, fuckin' Maynard Sidebottoms, and what kind of stupid fuckin' name is that, anyway, fuckin' _Sam_..."

He dried himself by carefully mopping the water on his skin with the towel, but even that was painful. Dressing up was excruciating, so much that he was tempted not to do it and walk around naked. When he finally left the bathroom, he was moving like an eighty-year old.

He sat on the closest bed, and Sam went to him with a bottle in his hands. His brow was furrowed, not mocking anymore but worried.

"Dean," he whispered, looking closely at the burns. "This is bad."

"You think I don't know it? Now get on with it."

Sam smeared the cream - some shit with aloe vera - on his red skin with slow, gentle circles. Dean knew his brother was trying to be careful, but the contact was still painful. Every time Sam saw him wince, he got slower, so it took forever and left both of them exhausted.

Later in the night, Dean was lying on his bed and unable to fall asleep despite how tired he was. He felt all sticky, burning like he was on fire, and he couldn't find a position that didn't hurt.

He was so wrapped in his misery that he hadn't paid attention to Sam's breathing and had thought he was sleeping, until he heard him sigh.

"You can't sleep, can you?" Sam said.

"Fuckin' hurt."

"I know, man. If there was something I could do to make it better, you know I..."

"It's okay, Sam. Get some sleep."

"Hmm." Dean heard a rustling of sheets. "I'm... I'm sorry I laughed."

"You were a bastard, alright," Dean said. "But I'm merciful and I forgive you. I would have done the same, except that you never burn, you lucky son of a bitch."

Sam snorted a laugh.

"Yeah. Next time put some sunblock on."

"Oh, believe me, I've learned my lesson. Now let me suffer in peace. Sleep."

"Good night, Dean."

"Want me to tell you a story to put you to sleep? You fucking baby." After a moment of silence, he added: "Good night."


End file.
